


Trapped

by ZoomsFics



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Escape au, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, other characters will be tagged as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoomsFics/pseuds/ZoomsFics
Summary: The Entity lets them free. Somehow, Meg gets a second chance at living a normal life. But, when she is given a chance to heal, it forces her to not only relive the horror she experienced in the Entity's realm, but come face to face once again with those who tortured her.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Meg Thomas
Comments: 44
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

_It was early in the evening, barely half past 6, but the night seemed strange to Meg. The wind was cold and whipped through her braids, sending strands falling through her face. Though later she would not be able to tell someone why she ran so far, the night she disappeared, but that night something took over her. She ran deeper and deeper into the woods, venturing farther than she had ever dared before until she couldn’t figure her way out. Until exhaustion made her succumb into the dark, black, night. Succumb her to the Entity’s wrath._

***

Waking for Meg was like being dowsed in a cold lake; the feeling was sudden and shocking. She gasped for air and her body shook with violent heaving coughs. Cold sweat covered her entire body. Her head was pounding. What was worse was that she couldn’t remember how she got there.

Meg was lying in a forest face down in the dirt. She rolled to her back, her body groaning against the movement, and saw towering trees that looked down upon her, covering the sky with their branches. Between the leaves Meg could make out faint sunlight.

The sun.

There was no sun in the Entity’s realm. Only black.

“What… the fuck,” was the only thing she could manage saying. Where was she?

Taking her time, Meg rolled to her side and pushed herself up so that she was on her knees. Something in the dirt caught her eye. A square object, flat with rounded edges. Her phone. Her fingers grasped it in a hurry and she crushed the power button with her thumb. The screen was cracked but still functional. Her lock screen was a picture of her and an older woman with the same red hair as her. Her mother maybe? Meg couldn’t remember. The two were smiling bright, a memento from a happy time. Now all Meg can remember is death.

The phone vibrated, shaking in her dirty palms. Meg was getting a call. ‘Amelia’ was the name that flashed across the screen, but it didn’t ring a bell in her mind. She answered anyways.

“Hello, Meg?! Oh, thank God you answered the phone. I was so worried, where have you been?” Meg could only assume the anxious warbled voice on the other end of the line was Amelia.

“Do I know you?” Meg asked, caution in her voice. Her eyes darted from tree to tree, trying to spot anything that might be watching her through the trees. The white mask of the Shape, the Doctor’s glowing eyes, or the Trapper’s menacing masked grin.

“What are you talking about, Meg? It’s Amelia, from work? I’ve been calling all ni—” Amelia was cut off: the phone had died. Meg cursed. What the hell was going on? Was this another sick trick by the Entity?

She slipped the phone into her sweatpants, and took a long look around the forest. Thin rays of weak sunlight broke through the trees. The forest looked almost enchanting. It was the first light she had seen in how long? She couldn’t remember but it must have been a lifetime ago since she saw any light but the cold wash of moonlight. Like a baby deer, she wobbled over through the brush into a patch of sun. Her face washed in the warm glow and she smiled, a real true smile out of true happiness. When was the last time she did that? She couldn’t remember that one either.

Up in the trees a blue jay sat on a branch looking down on her. Not a crow, not a spy for the Entity. A real, live bird. She could not remember the last time she saw one. The two stared at each other until the bird flew back up into the sky. Meg stood for a moment, admiring the way its powerful wings beat into the air at a steady tempo.

“God, I have to get out of here,” she muttered. Where was here even? She needed to get out of this forest and find a road, or someone who could help her. Currently, nothing seemed familiar and that freaked Meg out. She wandered back to the thin dirt path she had been laying on and decided to follow it. Slowly, very slowly, Meg put one foot in front of the other and forced her body to move. One two, one two, one two, her feet went along the path and eventually she made it to somewhere she recognized. That thin path she was on joined up with a larger one that ran under a bridge. Cars trundled over it on their morning commutes, oblivious to Meg standing there in a daze below.

She remembered this bridge. The road on top was wide, and she could walk all the way through the deep tunnel underneath. She thought of the last time she saw the bridge. Clarity was slowly coming back to her. She ran frequently under this bridge; it was part of her normal routine.

A man ran past her, and Meg did not see him till the very last moment. He startled her, making her jump back and away from his path, and he shot a confused look at her.

“Sorry,” she whispered as the man jogged into the tunnel, giving her one last look of confusion. He stared with widened eyes and a slack jaw.

“God, is there something on my face. Stop staring, idiot!” Meg yelled. First day back in reality and things are just as strange as they were when she was in _that_ place. Great. The man hurried off towards the end of the tunnel.

That man’s look had been strangely confused, even frightened. Meg pulled her dead phone out to see if she could see her reflection in that cracked screen. Something must have been off with her appearance to spook him that bad. Meg could barely see herself in the ruined screen… but just enough to see that her ginger hair was matted with blood. Lots of blood. The red of her hair was almost indistinguishable from the red of the blood.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck everything,” she yelped. Hands scrambled to pat her hair down, but she discovered that the blood was dry. Upon closer inspection there were flecks of it in her running leggings and on her face. Of course, the man had looked at her like that: she looked like a psychopathic murderer.

After she determined that the blood was not fresh (never mind finding out if it was her blood or not), Meg hurried down the path, hopefully walking in the direction of somewhere recognizable. Things were starting to come back to her, the gnarled tree next to the riverbed, the wire fences that started to surround her path, the way the sun looked sprouting through the trees in certain places. She jogged past a gate that caught her eye. It was a simple wooden piece with a rusted metal latch and wiring middle, but it seemed familiar.

Meg wandered over to the gate. The latch was not locked, so she easily unlatched the gate and pushed it open. Beyond the gate was a small, but well-kept backyard. There was a sloping crab-apple tree in the middle, budding in the soft sunlight. Although the grass had not yet grown to maturity, and yellow-brown patches dotted the yard, and the patio furniture was dusty, there was a sense of peaceful air that calmed Meg’s hyperactive brain. This was her home.

Approaching the small bungalow next to the yard, Meg took quiet footsteps. What if this house wasn’t hers and someone called the police on her? God, what if this was all just a test created by the Entity? Her head whipped back to the forest, making sure no killer was watching her. Once she was satisfied there was not someone following her, she tried the handle on the door.

The door swung open. Meg took slow, measured steps inside, preparing to bolt at the first sign of activity. It was dark inside, but she could make out a small kitchen. A collection of colourful plates and mugs filled the sink, some with small chips in them but in good condition. She wandered over to the fridge. Many pictures were stuck to it, including another picture of Meg and her mother. So, it was her home. She sighed, letting some of the tension fall from her shoulders.

Something rattled in another room, and Meg bolted from her spot next to the fridge. She ducked under the tiny wooden table in the corner, seeking a hiding spot.

The rattling stopped, turning into a low humming sound. It was just the heating system. But Meg cowered under the table, tearing up. She had been sure that it was one of the Entity’s servants, ready to take her away and shove her onto a hook. Her breathing was heavy, and her skin prickled in that instinctive way it did when a threat had arisen in a trial.

Meg sat under the table in the fetal position until her hands stopped shaking. 

Getting up out of her hiding spot, she poked her head out the door one last time to make sure there was no one watching her before slamming it and locking it three times over, then shutting the curtains so no light could come through. She made sure the front door was locked, the windows were locked, even going as far to push the living room’s staple lumpy grey armchair in front of the front door. After wolfing down two cans of soup, something that almost made her cry in happiness, she made sure to prop the cans up against the large window in the kitchen. If someone were to open it, then the cans would fall and alert her of the intruder.

Next, she headed to the bathroom, remembering to lock the door behind her. Finally, she got a good look at herself in the mirror.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. Her own reflection surprised her. Along with the matted blood in her hair, there was splotches of it covering the rest of her face and even her neck. She was afraid to strip and get into the shower, but nonetheless she did. Meg had never been uncomfortable with her body, within or out of the Entity’s realm, but she paused when she grabbed her sweater. She was not sure she was ready to see the damage the Entity’s realm had done.

The sweater came off first after a few tense seconds. Then the running leggings. Meg gasped again. The skin at her ankles was scarred from stepping in so many bear traps. Blood was under her fingernails. Her stomach was strikingly gaunt, and ribs poked out below the skin. Dark circles swelled under her eyes. Cuts, bruises, scraps and scars stalked her skin. She was a nightmare. A living reminder of all the tragedies she had endured.

The Entity had taken its toll on her body.

It was hard not to cry. She promised herself she wouldn’t, but the tears came anyway. Salty tracks carved their way across her face, dripping to the floor. She collapsed to the tiles. Sobs wracked through her body, and she didn’t know for how long she cried on the bathroom floor. The tears turned into hiccups, and hiccups into shouts of pain to the Entity, and the killers who tormented her.

“It’s over now… it’s over now… it’s over now…” she kept reassuring herself, while curled up on the tiles.

Yes, it was over, but she came out far from unscathed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg gets a visit from the police.

_Her heartbeat rang in her ears, but that was the least of her worries. A mountainous man stalked after her as she vaulted herself over leftover brick walls and ducked behind thick trees. She pumped her legs easily: years of training had almost prepared her for the tests of the Entity’s trials._

_She dropped a pallet on the Trapper, and he grunted. Meg sprinted off into the distance while the beast roared. Just a little more running, and maybe he would leave her alone (she hoped). Glancing behind her, she saw that the Trapper was far behind her… maybe she would be able to escape!_

Just a little farther… _she thought, hope gleaming behind her eyes._

_SNAP! went the bear trap around her delicate ankle. She howled. Tears came. She had been so close to escaping…_

_The Trapper came closer, the menacing mask smiling in blissful pleasure at her pain._

_“No! Please, I’ll do anything!” She cried._

_The Trapper ignored her._

_Death was near, and the Entity rumbled with delight._

***

Meg started to remember things. She worked at a bar with that girl Amelia to help pay for her mom’s hospital bills. She quit school to care for her mom’s cancer full time. This was her mother’s home, but they shared it. She used to love running: it was the only thing that kept her sane.

Funny how her favourite hobby managed to save her numerous times in the Entity’s realm. Running track in high school, and then during her short stint at university, had been the love of her life. When she ran she felt she could escape anything, in was her outlet in the real world. In the Entity’s realm, running meant life or death. The burst of adrenaline she got from the threat of the killers pushed her to outrun them, letting her friends power up the generators while the killer chased her around endlessly. In a game of run, hide, or die, Meg would always choose her strong suit, the thing that she loved.

Meg decide she never wanted to run another second in her life. It would only bring back the pain.

After crying on the bathroom floor, she showered, ate some more, and napped. She refused to sleep in her bedroom, instead she would take intermittent naps on the couch in the living room in order to keep an eye on the front door. She couldn’t sleep enough, but every half an hour or so she would jolt awake from a nightmare. The dreams were so real… she could almost feel the Trapper’s cleaver slash into her back.

However, this time she awoke to a knock.

“Ann Arbor Police,” the voice said on the other side.

Meg crawled out from under her blanket and moved the armchair from the front door. She unlocked the door, poking her head out cautiously. Two men stood at the door. “Yes?” she asked. The evening sun glared in her eyes and she squinted to get a good look at the pair.

“My name’s Detective Padilla and this is Detective Brennon. We’re inquiring about a missing person’s case. Are you Meg Thomas?” Detective Padilla showed her his police badge. He was a man of average height, with bronzy skin and shaggy black hair that covered his forehead. He had a deep-set eyes and dark brows, with a five o’clock shadow dotting his prominent jaw. Detective Brennon was similarly handsome, but obviously younger than his partner. Brennon stood behind his counterpart, patiently watching Meg with laser blue eyes. His blond hair was short, almost in a buzzcut, showing off his angular features.

“Yes, that’s me. Is everything alright?” Her voice was soft, wavering when she spoke.

Padilla’s features softened. “Do you mind if we come in?”

Meg really did not want them to come in. The living room was in all sorts of disarray, and she probably looked crazy. But she relented. “Of course,” she shrugged, opening the door for them. “Um, let me clear some space for you to sit.”

If the detectives found it odd that the armchair was obviously not in the right place, and that the couch was facing towards the door instead of the opposite way towards the TV, they didn’t complain. Blankets covered half the couch, spilling onto the carpet below. Two half-full mugs and three unwashed plates were scattered on the coffee table. Pillows littered the floor. “It’s fine,” Padilla said. “We can just sit wherever.”

“Okay,” Meg mumbled. She crumpled into the grey armchair. Padilla sat on the empty half of the couch and Brennon opted to stand, more interested in observing the chaos of her small living room with feigned politeness. Meg’s cheeks flushed: it was so embarrassing to be in the presence of other people while her house looked like this.

“We received a call last night that you hadn’t shown up for work, according to your co-worker Amelia. She said that it was unusual for you to not show up, so she called the police right away. You’re very lucky to have such a good friend.” Padilla explained. “We phoned your mother this morning as well, and she said that you hadn’t shown up to visiting hours at the hospital, which was also unusual of you to do. A neighbour called us this morning and told us how there was activity in the house, so we decided to come take a look. We’re glad to find you.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

Padilla continued. “We also got a call early this morning from a jogger, claiming he saw someone matching your description; covered in what he believed was blood. Care to explain?”

She stuttered. “I-I… I don’t remember. How long did you say I’ve been missing?”

“About 24 hours.” Padilla noticed her distress. “Is everything alright, Meg?”

“I’ve only been missing one day…?” She whimpered.

“Yes, Meg,” Padilla said. “Is something wrong? You can tell us, it’s okay.”

Meg pressed her face into her hands. She let the tears fall. “Oh my god, it felt like years,” she wept. She could not believe it. How could so many days, so many trials, be compressed into 24 hours?

The two detectives looked at each other. “Did someone hurt you, Meg?” Brennon asked. His voice was deep, yet kind. “Did someone try to do something to you last night?”

“No, no.” she sobbed. “I just… I think I got lost, and somehow, I made it to this place, and it wasn’t like here, it was so dark… and people would chase me, and try to kill me. There was this man with bear traps and a cleaver… that was just one of them. I know this sounds crazy but you have to trust me.”

Detective Brennan looked mortified.

“It’s okay, Meg,” Padilla said. “We’ll take a look into it, but for now we’re just glad you’re safe. Before we go, I want to leave you our precinct number, just ask for me when you get on the line, and some mental health resources. Sometimes, it’s good to talk to a professional about a psychotic break and—”

“I know what I saw!” Meg snapped, offended that he was just brushing off her experience as something her mind created. “I told you, I’m not crazy. I was being hunted down for sport for some sick creature… that must have been why I was covered in blood! A-and I, and I… I-I can’t…” she wailed. Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

The detectives tried to console her. “I understand, but I’ll leave these just in case, okay Meg?” Padilla asked.

“Please!” she shrieked. “I know people who can confirm my story!”

Padilla glanced at his partner, signalling Brennan. The blond man took out a notepad.

“Who are these people?” Padilla asked.

“Claudette Morel is one of them. She mentioned living in Montreal one time. David King, he’s from Manchester. Nea Karlsson: Gothenburg. Dwight Fairfield. I think he said he was from Missoula…” She rattled off name after name, and where each of her friends had said they lived before they came to the Entity’s realm. If she had appeared in the same spot that she had disappeared, maybe the others had done the same. She desperately hoped her friends had escaped liked her, and that they were okay… as okay as one could be Meg’s situation.

“Thank you for the information,” Brennan said. “We’ll take a look into it.”

She sniffed, “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course, it’s not a problem. Please call if you have any persisting problems.” Although she knew he had just brushed off her story as nutso-jargon, she still appreciated the sentiment. The men got up to leave. “We’re glad you’re safe, Meg,” Padilla said as she unlocked the door for them. “Please expect us again if we find any information regarding your friends.”

“Thank you again, Detectives,” her voice was tender.

The two exited the house, but before they walked down the steps Padilla turned to her. “Oh, and Meg?” He said. 

“Yes?”

“Please call your mother, she’s very worried.”

“Oh, yeah I’ll do that right away.”

She shut the door on the detectives before she had the chance to watch them drive off. The armchair was pushed in front of the door again. She realized that she still had not charged her phone from this morning. She found the charger plugged into the wall in her bedroom. She quickly left the dark bedroom.

Once the phone was charged, she punched in her password (which was her mother’s birthday, September 16th), and quickly made sure to call her mom.

The phone dialed, ringing.

It ran until her mother’s voicemail. _You have reached Anne Thomas; I can’t be at the phone right now. Please leave a message!_

“Mom,” Meg rasped. “I’m okay… everything is going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I didn't expect this chapter to get out as fast as it did, but I literally wrote it in a whirlwind of inspiration. Hope you enjoyed! I know it's a bit short but, the story's progressing! Get ready for some action soon :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg tries to get her life in order.

_The full moon hung in the sky like a ripe fruit ready to be picked. The moon that never dimmed, moved, or changed. The harsh glow of it was the only light the survivors got besides the campfire. It was always dark, and Meg missed the sunlight on her skin the most. Her heartbeat picked up, and she looked away from the sky. The Trapper could be seen in the distance, his terrifying form barely visible through the murky fog. But he was there alright, and on the hunt for his next victim._

_Meg knew she was a good person. She knew she did not deserve to be damned to this hell. No matter how much she tried to make up some reason for her being here, the reason never came. The Trapper on the other hand, took pleasure in killing the poor survivors. He was here for a reason. And Meg never wanted to figure out that reason._

***

After she woke the next morning, still on the couch, it dawned on Meg that this was, in fact, real, and not some sick twist by the Entity. That she was back in reality and the Entity was not playing trick on her. Why? She could not tell, but she was grateful for the second chance at life, for the chance to be able to see her mother again. 

Meg decided that today she was going to try and get her life in order. Although every time the heating system would boot up it made her jump, she needed to try and reintegrate into society no matter how much it might scare her too. Fuck those detectives that said she had a psychotic break. She did not need anyone’s help, no less some ‘professional’ who was going to misdiagnose her worries. She knew what she had seen, knew what she had experienced. It was _not_ just some figment of her imagination.

First, she needed groceries, and that was probably the scariest part. There were so many things that could go wrong when she was in public. She forgot what it was like to be normal. In the Entity’s realm, normal moments were a luxury, and they were usually happened between trials when the survivors got to bond with each other.

God, she missed her friends. She had never felt closer to a group of people than during her time in the Entity’s realm. When none of them were in a trial they got together and acted as any family would, though they were a giant, mismatched one. Each of them had a role. Ace would recall his days playing poker (and cheating) in Vegas while he taught Jake and Dwight how to play using a pack of cards he found in Haddonfield. Sometimes, Kate would bring out her guitar and play soft music by the campfire, while Claudette hummed along and gave injuries medical attention. David, Nea and Yui were always arguing with each other, always trying to one up each other with their adventurous stories. Jeff became her punk-rock father figure, and he liked to create little art pieces out of the scraps he found for the other survivors.

Meg could talk about anything to her friends, and she wished she had at least one of them to support her now. Claudette always knew how to handle Meg when she was anxious. Dwight, shy and timid, was frighteningly positive in situations where the survivors would get antsy. He would reassure them that as long as they stuck together nothing could happen to them.

Now, she had no one but herself. Her friends had been ripped away.

Meg’s hand shook as she grabbed her keys and moved the armchair out of the way of the front door. _I can do this,_ she reassured herself over and over. _I can do this_. She felt almost separate from her body when she opened the front door. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears while she locked the door and descended the small set of brick steps.

The world lay before her, full of potential. Meg freaked out. It was too much. She quickly unlocked the door and flew inside the dark house, shoving the armchair back in front of its place in front of the door. She fell to the hardwood, shuddering.

_I can’t do this_ , her mind cried the entire two seconds she had been outside. Sweat dotted her temples. Tears brimmed at her eyes. _They’re out there_ , her mind supplied. _They’re out there, waiting to get you when you least expect it. They will take you back to the Entity, and torture you for the rest of time._

She could not do this. Her anxieties frustrated her, and the fear she felt bled into anger and then sorrow. Her fist hit the hardwood floor, thumping three times before reaching up to pull at her scalp. “God dammit!” She screamed at the empty house, alone on the floor with no one to turn to. No Claudette to calm her nerves, none of Quentin’s quiet banter, or Bill’s old-timey anecdotes. Her mother was in the hospital, with enough worries of her own. Meg was alone, and the very notion that she was alone in such an unfamiliar, vast world terrified her.

In the Entity’s realm, there were rules. Stay at the campfire in between trials. During downtime you could do whatever you wanted, but it was restricted to the area of the campfire. If you wandered far enough away eventually you always returned back to the fire. When the Entity called on the survivors, they were forced to accept. Trials either ended through brutal death or barely escaping, and escaping always brought them back to the campfire to begin all over again. And that was the way it was, never changing, never wavering in its cruel strictness.

Meg could not remember how the rules of the real world worked. It had been too long since she was used to applying them. There were no boundaries. There were strangers, scrutinizing her every move. Normal people who would be able to spot a fake like her as soon as she stepped foot out of the house.

She had never felt anxiety like this before. It gripped at her throat, her hands, and clawed at her eyes. Everything was too loud. The dull hum of the heating system was roaring in her ears. Her breathing got heavier by the second. 

_What do I do?_

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Grateful for the distraction, Meg pulled it out of her sweater. _Mom_ , flashed on the screen. She thumbed the answer button.

“Hello, Mom?”

“Oh thank God, Meg! I’m sorry I couldn’t have called earlier I had a scan and an overnight test done and—”

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m fine” Meg lied.

“What happened to you? I got a call from the police saying that you went missing! I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I-I… It’s hard to explain what happened. I just went for a run and got really, really lost.”

The other end of the call was silent for a second. “Bullshit, Meg. You’re not fine, your voice sounds different. Why are you whispering? Are you in danger?”

God, she forgot how easily her mom could tell when she was distressed. The fact that she had sensed it so easily threw her off.

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“You’re my daughter. I will always believe you.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Take your time.”

Meg took a deep breath before trying to somehow explain how she was kidnapped by a spider demon that came down from the sky. “I did go for a jog yesterday, around 6pm. It got really dark really fast and suddenly I was in this really unfamiliar place, mom. There was a campfire, and a few other people there…”

Meg explained her plight to her mother. She rambled and rambled about how the killers had chased her through countless trials, and that it felt that she had been stuck in the Entity’s realm for what felt like thousands of years, not one mere day.

“I see,” Meg’s mother said when Meg finished. “And where are these people now?” her mother asked, referring to the other survivors.

“I’m not sure, I asked to police to look into them in order to back up my story. They said they would come back to the house if they found anything.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Mom,” Meg said, “You don’t have to believe me, but it’s just nice to know that someone is listening. The police didn’t.”

“I will always listen to what you have to say. It just might take me a while to come up with a response.”

“I know.”

“Come visit me today, Meg. I need to see you in person, to see if you’re okay.”

“I will. And I will be. But…”

“Yes?” Her mother said.

“It’s hard to leave the house… I’m trying to get groceries and I can’t seem to force myself to leave, Mom.” Meg said. “I’m scared. What if I get taken back?”

“There’s a reason why you came back, Meg, there’s a reason why you got let go. I think that if they wanted to take you back, they would have by now. You should take this time to be grateful for what you’ve been given instead of fearing it.”

Meg wanted to tell her that it was not that simple. The effects of the Entity’s trials had damaged her mind in ways that she believed could not be fixed by simply being grateful. But she knew better than to be rude to her mother.

“Okay… I’ll try,” she said instead.

“Be at the hospital around 3?”

“Yes, see you then.”

“Bye, Meg. Stay safe. I love you. I will always be there for you.”

“Love you.”

Meg hung up the phone and slipped it back in her pocket. It was around 10AM, and she knew that if she showed up at the hospital without doing her groceries her mother would scold her. Taking a deep breath, Meg got up and kicked the armchair out of the way with one shove of her foot. She unlocked the door, and plunged herself into the world. Though she was still afraid, her mother’s words had given her the push she needed to try and face her fears.

The Entity had controlled her before, but she would not let it control her now.

She was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a bit of a slow chapter, but the plot will quicken very, very soon >:)  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg finds out what happened to Dwight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... I'm back. Sorry for the lack of updates. I will try to update ASAP!

_Another trial. Another bear trap wrapped around her teammate’s ankle like a shackle. Meg knew that if the Trapper got to David before she did, he would be dead. He had already been hooked twice._

_On the other hand… if she left David for The Trapper, it would give her time to escape._

_No. She would not leave her friend behind._

_Meg took off sprinting through the dirt, abandoning the generator she was tending to. Her heartbeat sped up exponentially until it was thundering in her ears. The Trapper appeared through the corn. Massive and threatening, The Trapper stood above the corn, barreling through it to his target._

_“Hey, fucker!” Meg howled._

_The Trapper stopped his pursuit. He turned to her, mask glinting in the moonlight. Sharp teeth shone like daggers. Despite the fear crawling up her spine, Meg called to him again._

_“Yeah you! You mountainous piece of shit.”_

_The Trapper only tilted his head in response._

_“Come get me, fat-ass!” She yelled._

_This got his attention. Almost as if The Trapper forgot David existed, he rushed towards her. Meg dug her heels into the soil and raced away in the opposite direction._

_The chase was on, and she was not going to lose this time._

***

Meg drove to the only grocery store she could remember, a Trader Joe’s about a 5-minute drive through the neighbourhood. Driving came back to her easily as soon as she got into her car. The little silver hatchback was half as old as her but it did the job.

The one-lane streets winded lazily through the quiet borough, and there was not much traffic. She kept under 25 miles, taking a leisurely pace, reminding herself of the neighbourhood that she had lived in her entire life. Other one and two-story houses dotted the road, and their cheery dispositions gave the street a sheltered feeling. It had been a safe place to grow up, with lots of kids to play with after school. They used to roam around on the streets, riding bikes or playing basketball until her mother would have to come find her after dark.

She missed being a kid. It had been hard growing up with without a father in a neighbourhood where all the kids had one. Being an only child was even harder. She often had no one those late nights when her mom came home from work, exhausted. It was just her and Anne.

Meg drove past the playground her mother used to bring her too when she was a toddler. She recalled playing with another young boy while both their mothers chatted. The woman would not stop going on and on about how hard-working her husband was, and she asked her mother about her husband there was a long silence.

“It’s just my daughter and I.” Anne said.

“Oh, where’s her father? You’re so young and every girl needs a father.”

“It’s none of your concern really,” Anne snapped.

That was the day that her mother accidently taught her what the word ‘bitch’ meant.

Sometimes, other kids would tease her about her father. She had been different, and children always seem to like to bully those who are different. She heard it all: her father never loved her, she was unplanned and unwanted, and every other insult in the book. Kids knew not to insult her to her face, though. Her fiery temper made sure they shut their mouths.

Trader Joe’s appeared in the distant. A squat one-story building was the largest in the small plaza. There was also a pet store, a nail salon, a carpet retailer, a store that sold miniature figures, and a crematorium. An odd collection of buildings, really, but Meg was not complaining. She just wanted groceries.

She pulled into the parking lot, noticing how packed it was. It was a Saturday morning; how could she not have expected this?

She pulled into an empty parking space near the back of the lot. _Okay, this is enough exploring for today,_ she thought with her hand on the ignition. _I can just go home and say that I went to the grocery store, it’s technically not a lie._

But, her mother would know she was lying, and besides, she needed something to eat. The tins of Campbell’s Chunky chicken soup she had been surviving off of were less than desirable. Swallowing her anxieties, she opened the door and got out.

Nobody seemed to be looking at her strangely when she went to grab a red shopping cart, or when she went inside the store. Good. She looked normal.

The normal Saturday morning crowd packed the small grocery chain. Meg pushed her cart among all the unfamiliar faces. A woman rushed past her, dragging a small child along who could not have been more than 5-years-old. Meg smiled at the small boy, but he did not smile back. Instead he stared at her, serious and blank-faced. Meg looked away.

Rolling her cart into one of the many produce isles, she made sure to leave plenty of room around herself, and tried her best to be inconspicuous. Her eyes darted from aisle to aisle, person to person, scanning each to make sure they did not present a threat to her.

Meg’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out. The caller ID said _Amelia_. Meg picked up the phone.

“Meg?” Amelia asked.

“Hi, Amelia, I’m sorr—”

“No, don’t be, I know times have been tough for you. I just wanted to call and check in on you. The police told me they found you. How is everything?”

Meg shoved the phone between her shoulder and her ear so she could continue pushing her cart. “Confusing? There’s still a lot I need to figure out.”

“I’m here if you need someone to talk to. And don’t worry about work, Jeremy’s giving you the week off.”

Oh, right, work. And the bar she worked at before she became one of the Entity’s playthings. To help support her and her mother. To Meg, working in her current state felt impossible, not without having to hide every five minutes. Working at The Pale Rose was not all bad news though. It paid well, had good tips, and her boss, Jeremy, was a friendly enough guy. He was always accommodating if Meg had to leave in the middle of a shift for any emergencies regarding her mother.

“Thank him when you see him next time?” Meg said into the phone. “I really needed that.”

“No problem. Just text or call me if you need anything, okay? I have to go now, I just wanted to say hi.” Amelia said.

“I will. See you.”

“Bye.” Amelia hung up.

The rest of Meg’s trip went smoothly. The drive home was uneventful. Meg still stayed hyper-vigilante, watching out for any signs of the Entity or its minions everywhere she went. When she came back home, she almost expected one of the killers to be sitting in the armchair, cleaver or saw or katana in hand, waiting for her to enter. But, the house was empty. Meg checked every hiding place she could think of, the pantry, the entryway closet, and even behind the shower curtain, to make sure nothing was lurking in the house. Satisfied with her search, she unpacked her groceries, and went to take a nap.

It was nearing two in the afternoon when there was a knock at the door. The noise startled Meg out of her fitful sleep. She arranged herself and went to go see who was at the door. Meg opened the door to find Detective Padilla and Brennon standing on the stoop.

“Oh, hi Detectives,” she greeted, surprised that they were back. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Detective Padilla spoke. “We found some information on your friend Dwight. We couldn’t find anything on the others since they’re out of the country, but we spoke to the Missoula Police Department, and they found Dwight in a similar state to you. He had stumbled out of the forest in a confused stupor and fell into the middle of an intersection. A car narrowly missed him.”

Meg’s eyes widened. “Where is he now?”

“He’s been committed to a psychiatry hospital in New York. I couldn’t get much information over the phone but apparently they specialize in cases like his.”

“Were you able to talk to him?”

“No, they said he wasn’t in the proper state to be on the phone.”

“Poor Dwight,” Meg sighed. He was already skittish; she could not imagine what kind of state he was in after being dumped out of the Entity’s realm, having a near miss with a car, and being taken into a new environment. Meg had seen what the sight of a killer in the distance did to him. She knew he would be in no position to be talking on the phone.

“We can give you the phone number of the facility, though. And when your friend is feeling better, I’m sure you will be able to talk to him.” Padilla said, reaching into his pocket for his notebook. He ripped out a sheet and handed it to Meg. It read:

_Clearwater Health Sciences Centre_

_XXX – XXXX_

“Thank you, Detectives, I really appreciate it.”

Brennon gave her a sympathetic nod of his head. “Of course, Meg. Once again, if you need anything you have my number.” Padilla said.

After the officers left, Meg immediately picked up the phone to call Clearwater. She flung herself on the couch and punched the number she was given into the phone. The dial tone played twice before a woman’s voice was heard on the other end of the line.

“Hello, Clearwater Health Sciences Centre. How can I help you?” The woman said. Her voice was sweet and bright, and Meg felt comforted by it.

“Hi, I’m calling to get in contact with a friend that’s been recently admitted. His name is Dwight Fairfield? I just wanted to see if he was ready to talk on the phone?” Meg fidgeted in her seat as she awaited a response from the receptionist. 

“Yes,” The woman said. “He was admitted yesterday. He’s unable to be at the phone right now, but I can transfer you to his doctor if you would like.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

“Just give me one second.”

The line went silent for a moment, and the dial tone played again. Meg waited patiently as the tone played over and over. Meg assumed that the doctor was away, and that she’d probably just have to leave a message. She had to see her mother soon anyways.

After the tenth tone, the phone was picked up. “Hello, this is Dr. McDaniel.” The doctor had a rough voice, yet sounded kind. Meg was grateful for it.

“Hi doctor, my name is Meg Thomas. I’m calling about my friend Dwight Fairfield?”

“Hello, Meg. Yes, Mr. Fairfield was admitted late last night. He was quite distressed.”

“I was told he isn’t ready to speak on the phone but that I could talk to you. I just wanted to make sure that he’s okay.”

“Your friend is in good hands, Meg. No need to worry. We specialize in these sorts of cases.”

“I’ve heard. I’m not sure what you mean by that though.”

“Oh, cases where the patient has suffered from extreme delusions. This may come across as a little alarming, but our patients seem to believe that they’ve been chosen as a sacrifice to some sort of higher being, and that they’re being hunted. The patient believes that they’ve been trapped for months, or even years, even though the delusions only last around a day.”

Meg’s heart clenched. Did this doctor know her struggles, what she had to go through at the hands of the Entity and its killers? “Really?” Meg asked a little too eagerly.

“Yes.” Dr. McDaniel said. “You know, Meg, Dwight mentioned you in passing. As someone who could corroborate his story. What is your relation to him?”

Meg contemplated sharing her story with this doctor. He was a stranger after all. But he knew of the struggles that Dwight and her had gone through. Maybe he could help her. She hoped he could help her.

“We are friends. Those delusions you mentioned… they aren’t delusions. We met in that god-awful place. Where those monsters chased us… sorry.” Her voice cracked.

“It’s fine. Take your time.”

“We would be sacrificed. Hunted and murdered. It happened hundreds of times. I can’t tell you how terrible it was. How much pain I’ve gone through. All for that _creature_.” She spat.

Meg heard the doctor pause on the other end. She expected him to dismiss her claims, or laugh in her face and hang up the phone. But, what came out of his mouth next she could not have expected.

“We know about the Entity.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and our goal is help those who have suffered through its torture. We can help you. Our doors are open to you.”

Meg considered the offer for a moment. “I can’t,” she said. The doctor hummed over the phone, and Meg could not decide if it was in question or in annoyance. “My mother is in the hospital. I have to be there to take care of her.”

“Are you sure, Meg? I think our facilities could really benefit you and your recovery process.”

“No, I’m sorry I can’t. But, thank you for the offer.”

“I’d really like you to seriously consider this offer—”

The doctor was interrupted by a scream from his end of the phone. It was a shrill cry, a woman’s cry. That scream… it was filled with indescribable pain and sorrow. It made Meg feel like she was right back in the trials. Whoever was screaming was anguished, and it was obviously crying for help. Meg drew back from the phone in shock. What would make someone scream like that?

Dr. McDaniel spoke quickly. “I have to go, but please consider my offer.” There was a sharp tone to his voice, something deadly.

The line went dead.

That scream. It was bloodcurdling. The sound replayed in her head, and all she could see was her friends being put on a hook. Her friends being mutilated. Her friends being tortured. It immediately made her feel repulsed by Dr. McDaniel’s’ offer. Something about that did not seem right about Clearwater to Meg.

From then on, she knew that the only way she would ever being going to that hospital was if someone dragged her there kicking and screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg visits her mom.

_To pass the time in the Entity’s realm, Meg liked to go for long runs through the endless forest. She’d always eventually end up back at the campfire, but sometimes she found useful items along the way. Hidden chests or small structures dotted the woods. Little gifts from the Entity, like a master giving its loyal dog a treat from time to time._

_Meg mostly happened along med-kits and tool-kits, and even flashlights if she got lucky. Her friends were grateful for the extra supplies, and often praised Meg for her efforts._

_A small shack appeared in the distance. It looked like every other one that appeared in the trials. Except, what was it doing here? Cautiously and as silent as she could be, Meg made her way to the shack. There was one small uncovered window to look through. She poked her head through and had to suppress a gasp._

_His back was to her, but it was obvious who Meg was looking at. The Trapper. His large form, the painful metal hooked through his shoulder, and that mask placed on the table beside him. His posture was relaxed, and did not hold the furious tension it usually did while in a trial._

_He looked so human, sitting there tinkering with a trap. No mask to hide behind. Just a man working on his favourite past-time. Meg could not stand it. The Trapper was a monster, a sick and twisted demon made for killing. He was no man._

_Yet, without the mask on, Meg could not help the slight churn of her gut while she watched him. The Trapper looked… lonely. Why was he out here all by himself? Did he have anyone to call a friend?_

_As soon as the thought crossed her mind she turned swiftly and sprinted back into the forest. The Trapper did not deserve friends. He did not deserve hobbies. He did not deserve to have one shred of humanity. He was a mindless animal, murdering for sport._

_Meg ran, not stopping till she could not think. Think about the soft curve of The Trapper’s back, or the shift of his muscles when he worked on that trap. Or that split second where she felt that maybe, just maybe, her and The Trapper were not all that different. Two sides of the same coin._

_Two lonely people trapped in hell._

***

Meg had gotten to the hospital shortly after her call with the doctor. She fidgeted in the elevator, playing with her keys, and earning glares from the other passengers. Meg exited at the tenth floor, and quickly made her way to her mother’s room.

“Meg?” Anne asked when she entered.

“Hi Mom.” Meg all but whispered. Anne laid on the hospital bed. Her mother was a tiny woman to begin with, but chemotherapy made her frail. No hair left, Anne almost looked like a baby in her hospital bed. The sight struck Meg to her core, and filled her with sadness. Though, the sadness subsided when her mom gave her the brightest smile Meg had seen in ages.

“Come give me a hug.” Anne said, still smiling.

They hugged for a long time. Tears filled Meg’s eyes, and fell silently down her cheeks. She did not want to cry in front of her mother but surrendered to her emotions anyways. It felt good to cry. It was out of happiness this time, not pain.

Once they finally separated, Meg wiped the tears from her cheeks quickly. She pulled up the small rolling stool next to her mother’s hospital bed.

“You’ve changed,” Anne sighed.

“Have I?” Meg asked.

“You look more mature. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen horrible things. God, I saw you a few days ago, and now…” Anne choked up.

Meg put her hand on her mother’s. “It’s okay, Mom. Don’t blame it on yourself, there was nothing you could have done to prevent it.” Meg said.

“I know… but I just wish I could have been there for you.” Anne said.

“I had my friends. They helped me through it.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, the first ones to arrive were Dwight, Jake and Claudette. We were all pretty confused, but once we realized that we weren’t getting out anytime soon we got really close. Dwight is afraid of everything, but some how he became our leader. He would calm down the newbies, explain to them what had happened to them. He knew the most about the trials, and always helped us. Jake was pretty much always silent except when he cracked a quiet joke at Dwight’s expense. Jake was so smart, mom. He was the one to figure out that we could sabotage the hooks. And Claudette was the gentlest person I’ve ever met. She knew everything that had to do with plants. She was our designated doctor, and I think that’s what brought her the most joy; helping us.”

Meg and Anne talked about all the others until around 7PM, when a nurse came into the room to give Anne her dinner, and to alert Meg that visiting hours were over. Meg promised to come visit Anne again tomorrow, and insisted that she would be there when visiting hours began at 9AM.

After Meg drove home and parked her car in the driveway, she got out and noticed something that was not there before. A black van with sliding doors sat parked across the street from her house. The engine off. It would have been unassuming before Meg became a pawn for the Entity, but now the van was a terrifying presence. Meg hurried inside, slamming the door and blocking it with the chair. She double checked every door and window to make sure they were locked, then slid underneath the kitchen table for safety.

Legs pressed to her chest, Meg rocked back and forth under the kitchen table.

_You’re so stupid_ , she thought. _You’re just overreacting, it’s just a van. It’s over, nobody is coming to get you, those killers don’t exist anymore… they can’t hurt you._

Meg stayed under that table until her legs went numb and the sun set. The house was dark and silent. She clambered out from under the table, into the living room, and peaked through the blinds and out onto the street. The van was still there, even though it was well past 9PM. Shutting the blinds with force, she decided to try and not worry about the van. She made herself dinner, and then tried to get some sleep on the couch in the living room.

***

Another couple of days passed without incident, except the fact that the black van had not moved from its spot across the street. Meg was slowly getting used to her life as a regular person again. She had rearranged the furniture in the living room back to its normal position, and even decided that night she was going to sleep in her bedroom instead of on the couch.

Right before bed, Meg checked the front of the house again. The van was still there. She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it, and as the days went on, the less threatening it seemed. So, Meg went to bed.

It was around two in the morning when there was a pounding at the door.

“Police,” a deep voice said from on the other side of the door.

Meg jumped up from her bed. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears like it did in a trial. The hair on the back of her neck stood tall. Why would the police be at her house in the middle of the night? Meg sure as hell did not call them, so why were they here?

Meg tiptoed to the entryway, and silently opened the closet next to the front door. There was a baseball bat inside, one from when she used to play as a child. It was a heavy wooden thing. Meg felt its weight in her hand.

Another knock on the door startled her. “Police, open up.” The voice said.

Meg reached for the handle, about to turn it when there was a crash at the back door. A shadowy figure kicked in the door, making its way into the kitchen. She could see him at the end of the hallway.

Meg shrieked and ran into the living room, hiding behind the wall. She could hear the figure’s heavy footsteps, which were most likely a man’s, coming closer. Meg waited until he appeared beside her. His face was covered in a black ski mask, and all she could see were his dark eyes. The figure tried grabbing at her neck.

Before he could do so, she swung the bat as hard as she could. It connected with the man’s jaw. He went down hard, grunting in pain. Meg swiftly stepped on his neck once he hit the ground, and pointed the bat in his face.

“Who are you?!” She screamed. “Are you one of them?!”

The man’s face lolled to the side.

“Tell me, or I’ll fucking kill you!” She threatened.

The front door burst open, and a group of three stormed the house. They were dressed the same as the first man, black ski mask and dark clothes so she could not identify them. Meg swung her bat again blindly, trying to hit any one of the three men. She knew this was a losing battle. She was tiny, and outnumbered, and would easily be overpowered.

One of the men grabbed the bat from her and ripped it from her hands. After, he punched her in the face, sending her to the ground. Meg was screaming, and clawing at whatever she could get her hands on, but failing. Another one of the men took a syringe from the bag he was carrying and stabbed it into her neck.

Meg’s vision spun, and she grew woozy quickly. The last thing she felt before blacking out was the sensation of her being carried, and the last thing she saw was the doors of the black van waiting open for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited for the next chapter... because our main man is being introduced ;)   
> Stay tuned :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh it's been a while but I'm planning on writing more! Sorry school and life just gets in the way sometimes... Hopefully, everyone is staying safe and well!
> 
> In this chapter we finally meet our main man Evan :D

_ Meg came back often to visit that little shack. Sometimes, The Trapper would be there, sometimes he would not be. Tonight, he was not. Meg meant to venture into his little domain when she noticed something sitting on the window. _

_ It was a med-kit. Place with precision on the window sill. Meg’s face flushed red. Did The Trapper know that she had been watching him? _

_ She snatched the med-kit and ran back into the woods. Back to the campfire where it was safe. But even after she made it home, there was only one thing on her mind: why would The Trapper give her this? _

***

Meg awoke to bright fluorescent lights beating down on her face. She squinted into the light, and threw her arm over her eyes to shield them. Soreness wracked her body.. Everything felt like it was on fire.

She sat up hastily, remembering the events of the previous night. Where was she? How long had she been out for?

She was laying on what looked to be a nice enough double bed, but in a tiny cell. There was a shower stall, sink and toilet in the corner (providing no privacy), a metal table and chairs, a dresser, and the bed. The floor and walls were concrete. She was probably in a basement, there was no window in her little cell.

_ How the fuck do I get out of here? _ Meg thought to herself.

She didn’t have any time to think before the door opened. Two tall men, both equipped with tasers at their sides. They both were muscular, around 30 years old in age, and tanned. And both had hair that was buzzed short. 

The two men did not come to her cell empty-handed, however. Along with them was another large man, who the guards dragged with them into the cell. He was unconscious from what Meg could tell; his head was hanging limp into his chest. Meg crouched into her sheets as they threw the man down onto the ground.

“He barely puts up a fight anymore, dumb animal.” One of the guards muttered. “Wake up, idiot!” He said, kicking the crumpled body on the floor. Then his head turned towards Meg. The man started laughing hysterically. 

It was a low, predatory laugh, created deep in the man’s belly. He laughed and laughed, for what seemed like ages, and his partner joined in as well. Meg couldn’t tell what they were laughing at. Her, she supposed. And the man on the ground.

“You guys are gonna have a lot of fun in here, ain’t ‘cha pretty thing.” He laughed.

“What?” Meg squeaked. “What are you talking about?”

“Your friend with the traps, he requested you. Guess even a dead man needs his pleasures.”

_ Man with the traps? No… no! _ Meg’s thoughts screamed.

The man on the floor was none other than the Trapper. 

Meg bolted for the door. Scrambling from the bed she tried to race past the guards but was struck down into the concrete with one hard blow to the face. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she could feel blood gushing from her nose.

”Please!” She sobbed through the blood. She didn’t even recognize her own voice. It was a desperate screech, something primal and full of despair. “Please, you can’t leave me in here with him!”

The guards started laughing again. Laughing and laughing while the cell’s door slammed shut. She could even hear them as they descended down the hall. 

“Fuck!” She cried. Her eyes glazed over the large body in the center of the room. The Trapper was shirtless, and dozens of scars littered his chest. She could see bruises layered upon bruises. They were new. Other lacerations covered his body. She could see small silver marks dotting his back from a switch and even a couple of circular burns along his arms. 

For half a second, a flicker of empathy coursed through her body, and then it went away. The Trapper was a disgusting man who hunted her and her friends to death. Good that he is being hurt. He deserves it.

The Trapper stirred on the floor. He was waking up. Meg’s eye darted around the room, looking for an escape. There was none. 

The Trapper was a threat, through and through. There was no way she could fight her way out of this situation. She was plenty shorter than him, and that in itself already presented a huge disadvantage for her. Not to mention his sheer strength. Between the Trapper and the steel door blocking her way to freedom, there was no way she was making it out of here. 

Groaning, the Trapper lifted his head to take a look around the room. Meg could see that without the mask he looked normal enough. He had a broad nose and thick eyebrows that framed his face, and a strong jawline. The metal bits stuck in his arms which were present in the Entity’s realm were gone. His eyes met hers, and Meg scrambled back into the wall from her position on the floor.

The Trapper sat up suddenly like he was surprised to see Meg in the cell as well. His quick movements startled her, and she let out a shrill cry and slammed her back into the wall.

”I don’t know why I’m here, please don’t hurt me!” She exclaimed to him.

She didn’t expect him to speak because, well, she had never heard him speak before. Never in the trials, even when she slammed a palette in his face he didn’t yell or curse.

“I’m not going to hurt you…” He murmured. His voice was low, almost a rumble, with a hint of sharpness to it that made Meg shudder.

“You’re bleeding,” the Trapper said. “Did they hurt you?”

Meg put her hand to her nose and it came back bloody. The blood was thick and syrupy. Her nose hurt. A lot. 

She stared at her blood-splotched fingers, then back at the Trapper. All she could see was the blood covering him during the trials, her blood spilled onto concrete. Bloody tears and bloody traps, and a man with a cleaver hunting her to death.

The Trapper pushed himself into a squat, then stood up. He crept closer to Meg, and she flinched away. “Let me help,” he said.

Closer he came, and Meg started to panic.

“Stay away from me!” She screamed.

“I just want to help,” he said, like a mother trying to comfort a small child. He came closer and Meg knew that she had to get away.

She leaped at him, her hands clawing at his eyes. The Trapper grunted when her blunt nails made contact with his face. She scratched until he stumbled back, falling to the concrete. 

Meg expected him to fight back, or to grab her by her neck and snap it. But, he didn’t. The Trapper just put his hand to his face and felt the scratches she gave him. Three claw marks raked down the left side of his face. One was even deep enough to draw blood, just above his eyebrow.

“God,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry… I’ll stay away.”

Meg pressed herself even further into the wall if that was possible. Anything to get distance between her and this monster. The Trapper took a few steps back from her, which helped Meg breathe. Not by much though. 

The Trapper spoke again, after a while, testing the waters. “You don’t deserve to be hurt, Meg,” he said. How he knew her name was beyond her. Then, he turned away and didn’t say another word.

***

After a couple of hours, which Meg spent plastered against the wall watching the Trapper’s every move, the steel door opened once again. Two new guards came in, pointing their guns at the Trapper, who raised his hands slowly in an act of surrender. The guards handcuffed the Trapper by both his arms and legs and chained those to one of the metal chairs in the middle of the room. The Trapper obediently met the guards’ silent demands, and sat in his chair without a struggle, like an obedient dog. 

The Trapper’s dark eyes flicked to her own, an unknown emotion playing amongst his irises. Meg averted her gaze quickly. 

She cowered against the wall as the guards left, hoping that they wouldn’t pay any attention to her. A second later, a nurse fluttered in, rolling along a tray with medical supplies on it. The nurse was beautiful, in a kind-looking way. She came over to Meg and gave her a tight smile while getting the supplies ready.

Meg realized that the nurse was here for her nose. Over the past few hours, it had stopped bleeding, but left a dried and cracking brown mess all over her lips, neck and shirt. The nurse took a damp towel and began to gently scrape the blood off Meg. Meg flinched but then stilled. She didn’t want to upset the guards again, so she let herself be cared for. 

After gingerly touching her nose a few times the nurse spoke. “It’s not broken, but it’ll need some gauze at least.”

Meg stayed silent as the nurse put her nose back in order. The nurse ordered her to take some pain meds which Meg took graciously along with water. 

Next, the nurse made a pointed, yet careful glance to the guards. They stood at the door, conversing quietly. Not paying attention. The nurse looked at them for a second, before reaching into her pocket, and producing something which Meg couldn’t see. 

“Open your hand,” the nurse whispered. 

Cautiously, Meg put her palm out, and the nurse’s covered hers quickly, flexing her fingers around Meg’s hand to close it. Whatever she gave Meg, it was small and square, but she wouldn’t dare look at it until the guards left. 

“I’m done here,” the nurse said, taking one last merciful look at Meg before wheeling the tray out in front of her. The guards came back in, and released the Trapper from his handcuffs. 

Then they left, shutting the steel door behind them with a clank. Meg opened her palm to look at what the nurse had given her. She gasped, feeling her throat tighten.

It was a condom. The nurse had given Meg a condom.

Meg’s face flushed a deep red in anger. Then embarrassment. Then fear.

The sound of the guard’s voice rang in her ears.  _ Even a dead man has his pleasures. _ Tears sprang into Meg’s eyes for what felt like the millionth time today. Is this why she was here? In this room with this monster? To be his play-thing?

She sobbed.

The Trapper, still sitting in his seat, turned to her, that unknown emotion playing across his face again. He stood when he noticed her tears and crept closer to her like she was a wounded wild animal. “Meg?” he questioned.

“Please don’t do this,” she whimpered. “Haven’t you taken enough from me already?” 

The Trapper’s face turned dark. “What are you talking about. Did that nurse say something to you?” 

“S-she gave me something…” Meg began, and opened her hand to the Trapper. 

He came ever so close, and for a second Meg couldn’t breath. Delicately, like she was an expensive porcelain figurine, he brought his hand to her, making sure to have as little contact with Meg’s hand as possible. He inspected the package, and once he realized what it was his eyes widened, and he backed away from her. 

“No,” the Trapper said. 

Meg sniffled. “No?”

The Trapper wobbled on his feet. “That’s not… I’d never…”

“Okay,” Meg said.

Both paused to gather their bearings. They looked at each other, and Meg saw for the first time how defeated the Trapper looked. His eyes were dull and tired, with generous bags underneath them. Sadness tugged at his features. 

“I never want to hurt you ever again, Meg. Or anyone for that matter.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“I’m an evil person. I deserve to be dead.”

Meg agreed with the Trapper’s statement but didn’t voice it. 

“And I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not going to do anything to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me any longer. All I want is for you to be at peace.”

Before Meg could say anything the lights in the room shut off. For a brief second, Meg considered screaming, as she couldn’t see the Trapper anymore, but then she stopped herself. No one was coming to save her here.

The Trapper was barely fazed by the lack of light. “Don’t worry, it’s just 9 o’clock. Bedtime.” Meg felt him brush past her, and then heard the rustling of the covers on the bed, along with the creaking of the mattress under the Trapper’s weight. “Coming?” he asked. 

Meg’s heart raced. “Do I have a choice?”

“Of course. Though the floor is not very comfortable. Or warm. I’ll keep my distance too.”

Meg hesitated, then made her way towards the bed. The Trapper, true to his word, shifted over until his back was almost touching the wall, leaving Meg plenty of room beside him. She climbed in.

Their eyes met in the darkness. “Not so bad, huh?” He said softly. Though her heart was still racing, Meg agreed that indeed it wasn’t so bad. She still felt that she couldn’t trust his promise of non-violence. But watching him shut his eyes and drift off to sleep beside her made her think. The Trapper was putting his trust in her by allowing himself to rest next to her. She could smash in his skull right now and he wouldn’t be able to fight back. She could smother him with a pillow and he wouldn’t know any better. 

Maybe instead of fighting back against him, she could make use of this unconventional alliance. For protection, of course. And then she could cast him aside once she was free.

Meg thought and thought about her circumstances until she eventually drifted off to sleep. 

***

A scream rang through the halls. Meg jolted up from the bed, heart pounding and breath heavy. The scream sounded like the one she heard through the phone when talking to Dr. McDaniel. Full of pain and terror. The Trapper stirred beside her.

Meg had forgotten about him, and upon realizing who he was she shrieked lashed her hands out at him.

“Meg, it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

The Trapper touched her back, rubbing a small tentative circle into it. Meg’s body went cold for a second, a shiver running up her spine, but then accepted the comfort. He rubbed another soothing circle while tears fell from her eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he repeated. “You’re okay.”

She cried into her hands, her body curling into itself. The Trapper’s large hand never slowed in its comfort, however. 

“Lie down, Meg. Try to relax. Breath.”

Meg lay, and the Trapper came down with her. Her breaths, still raggedy, slowed until they eventually were back to almost normal. The Trapper didn’t stir while she calmed herself down. Both stared at the black ceiling, breathing next to each other in comfortable silence.

“Better?” he asked.

“I think,” she responded. After a second she braved through the anxiety of asking a question of her own. “Why are we here?”

The Trapper propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. Meg couldn’t see the expression on his face. “We’ll talk in the morning. You should get some rest, you’ve had a long day.”

“Okay.”

Before settling back to bed. The Trapper brought his other hand up to Meg’s face and using one delicate finger he brushed away a sweaty curl from her forehead. The action was so gentle Meg barely felt it. She didn’t even realize such a large man, with such a murderous nature, could even be that gentle. But before she could contemplate him, the Trapper lay back down and rolled over away from her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Meg and Evan get closer and meet a doctor with terrible intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUDE I started working on the straight after I published the last chapter, and somehow I FINISHED IT ALL in a few hours. I thought I would share rather than keep you guys waiting haha. Gotta make up for lost time somehow.

By the time Meg woke up the lights were already turned on in the cell. The sheeted expanse of the bed beside her lay empty. She propped herself up, looking around the cell. The Trapper sat at the table, two plates of food in front of him. At her movement, he looked at her expectantly. He looked impossibly big while crammed into the tiny bolted metal chair. 

Meg got out of bed, trying not to cower or fidget under the intense expression of the Trapper. She briefly remembered the man’s gentle touch on her forehead the night before. What had it meant? Was it him extending an offer of comfort, of an alliance between them?

“Hungry?” he asked.

She mumbled, red flushing her cheeks. “Yes.”

“Come sit with me. We should talk about…” He drifted off mid-sentence, making a vague gesture to the room around them. 

“Okay,” she said.

Meg sat down across from him. On her plate, there were some scrambled eggs, toast, and tomatoes. The Trapper did not touch his plate till Meg put her plastic fork into her own. She brought a piece to her mouth. The eggs, although not as seasoned as Meg preferred, were warm and just the right thing she needed. She didn’t even realize how hungry she was until now.

“Sorry,” the Trapper mumbled between bites.

“What?”

“You must be so hungry. They didn’t bring dinner last night. Probably because of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

The Trapper put down his fork. “This place… these people… they want to study us. To learn about the Entity. They don’t give me food when I put up a struggle during their... interviews.” 

Something about the word interview stuck out to Meg. The way the Trapper said the word, with a slight pause and the quickness of the word made her wonder.

“What do you mean by interviews?”

The Trapper paused. “They… beat me. To get out information about the realms. If I don’t cooperate it only gets worse. I’m sure I deserve it but…”

“Jesus,” Meg muttered, that flicker of empathy trilled through her body. Just as when she had first seen the Trapper thrown onto the floor of their cell. “How often do they do this?”

The Trapper shrugged. “Almost every day.”

Meg didn’t know what to say. Instead, she looked down at her plate. 

“How’s your nose?” He asked, changing the subject. 

“Sore,” she replied. “But better. I didn’t really even notice it, honestly”

“Good.”

They ate in silence for a little bit after that, allowing Meg to digest the information the Trapper had given her while she ate. She couldn’t help wonder if these people were going to do the same thing that they did to the Trapper. Would they beat her for information? A tremble went up through her spine. 

“You’re shivering,” The Trapper said. “Are you cold?”

Meg looked at him. “A little. It’s nothing though.”

“Here,” he said, reaching for the hem of his gray sweater. He pulled it off swiftly and passed it to Meg over the table. She couldn’t help but notice the scars covering the corded muscle of his arms. She accepted the sweater gratefully and put it on. 

The Trapper, now shirtless, didn’t seem all too bothered by the chill. “There. Looks better on you than it did me anyway.”

“Thank you, Trapper,” Meg said, not realizing that she called him by the little nickname the survivors had for him.

The Trapper tilted his head. “Trapper?” he asked.

“Oh… it’s what the survivors and I called you. We had nicknames for all of the killers.”

The Trapper chuckled. “Trapper. It’s very… simple.”

“Hey, well I never said we were creative people. Would you rather me call you Your Majesty?”

The Trapper cracked a small smile. “Definitely not. But, if we’re going to be stuck here, you may as well call me by my real name.”

“Which is?”

“Evan,” he said.

“Well Evan,” she noted the way his name rolled off her tongue. The name was very masculine, just like him. She decided it suited him more than Trapper. “I’m Meg, though you already know that.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“Well, I heard your survivors call you that in the trials, but besides that you’re very hard to miss. It’s the hair, I think.”

Meg’s hand instinctively went to her ear to brush away the stray pieces that fell out of her braids. 

“It’s quite lovely,” he said.

“It’s covered in blood,” she deadpanned back. She didn’t miss the compliment, however. Did he really think it was lovely?

“There’s a shower, might be nice to wash all that off.”

Meg’s eyes drifted to the shower, reveling in the warmth it would provide her body. Maybe she should take one. She was covered in crackling blood, and not to mention the sweat she could smell on herself.

Meg got up from her spot at the table, making her way to the shower. There were two towels strung up over a bar. She turned back to look at the Trapper, no Evan she reminded herself, and found that fierce gaze watching over her. Evan’s attention was off putting to say the least. He regarded her like she was the only thing in the room, dark eyes watching hers. 

“Some privacy, please?” she squeaked.

“Sorry. I’m not really accustomed to company anymore, I don’t know how to act.” He swilled in his chair so his back was facing toward her. 

Once she decided Evan wasn’t going to turn around, she began the methodical process of stripping. First, the sweater he had given her, then her bloodstained shirt, leggings, and underwear. The braids in her hair were quickly unknotted. She left her clothes in a messy pile on the floor, stepped into the shower and closed the curtain quickly behind her. 

Her shower was wonderful. Hot water sluiced down her back, swirling leftover red blood into the drain. It relaxed her tense muscles and aching bones. More than once she caught herself letting out a soft sigh in relief. But, she didn’t dare take too much time, lest Evan come and check on her. Quickly, she shut off the water, and reached out of the shower for a towel, picking the one which was folded neatly and free of wrinkles. 

After patting herself dry, she dressed hastily, throwing on her leggings and Evan’s sweater. She discarded the bloody shirt; there was no use in wearing it. Evan, to her surprise, had not moved from his spot, besides putting on a fresh gray t-shirt. It clung to his arms and chest in a way that reminded her of just how powerful he was. Meg decided to take a quick pee in the very un-private toilet beside the shower.

When she had finished and washed her hands she spoke. “I’m done.”

Evan turned around and when his eyes met her his lips parted. “Good,” he said.

Meg sat down at the table and pulled her hair elastics off her wrists. Deftly, her hands went to her hair to rebraid it.

Evan watched her, then spoke when her hands began splitting her hair into two even sections. “You should keep it down.”

Meg paused. “What?”

“Keep your hair down. It looks nice like this.” 

Meg tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze was cast downward. There was a tint of red on Evan’s cheeks. Was he… blushing?

“Oh, okay.” Meg let her hands fall from her hair, and immediately some of it went in her face. That’s why she always kept it in braids. Better for seeing, better for running… better for-- 

While her attention was drawn to her thoughts, Meg didn’t notice Evan’s arm reaching across the table, nor the hand coming up to her face. When he touched her she flinched and looked up at him. Gently, like the night before, he hooked his finger into an untamed curl and brushed it behind her ear. His hand retreated as quick as it came.

“There,” Evan said. “Pretty.” He smiled. Close lipped and small, but there was a smile.

Before Meg even had the chance to process what happened, or ask him why he thought a tired, worn-out, good for nothing survivor looked pretty, a loud clunk sounded from the door.

Both Meg and Evan pulled back from how they were, which was leaning across the table toward each other. Meg’s eyes looked to the door, while Evan’s never strayed from her. 

The door opened, and it was the same two guards from yesterday. The one that had struck her down yesterday, and his companion. The one who had laughed in her face at her predicament.

The lead guard, the man who had caused her the pain in her nose, spoke first. “Well, isn’t it the happy couple. Have a fun night?” he asked, with a wicked sneer on his face. 

Evan bristled at that, and Meg could see how he held his tongue.

The other guard, who had his gun trained on them, laughed. “Not talking today?”

“Guess not,” the lead guard replied. “They want to keep secrets. Anyways, I’m sorry to tear you guys apart on your honeymoon, but Dr. McDaniels wants to see her,” he said, gesturing at Meg with his own gun. “Come with me.”

“No,” Meg said.

“What was that?” the guard said.

“I said no!” she yelled at him.

“This isn’t a request. It’s an order, you fucking whore.”

Evan spoke, surprising Meg. “Don’t call her that.” His voice was a low growl.

“Oh, so he does have a voice?” The second guard said. 

The first guard shushed him. “You better come with me now, or I’m going to break a lot more than your nose.”

Meg sighed. She didn’t have much of a choice, really. “Fine, but I want Evan to come with me.”

The lead guard feigned sympathy. “Aw, how cute. Fine, as long as it’ll get you out of this damn cell. You two are like Romeo and Juliet. Can’t be separated. Too bad they both die in the end. Or not too bad.”

Evan said nothing. Neither did Meg. 

Both the guard entered their space, handcuffing Meg by her wrists, and putting Evan in the same handcuffs as yesterday. Around his ankles and wrists, connected by a chain in the middle.

The four filed out of the cell, the first guard taking the lead, the second behind Meg and a shuffling Evan. They went through a few winding white hallways filled with non-descript doors until they reached an elevator. Meg couldn’t help wonder if any of her friends were behind those doors. 

Into the elevator they went before she could have a second thought. The lead guard selected level two, and up they went. When the elevator doors parted, the four were greeted with distinctly nicer hallways, with green wallpapered walls and office doors with frosted windows in their middles. The guards brought them down to the end of the hallway, and opened the door for the two of them.

An aging man with gray hair and beady blue eyes sat behind the desk. He was wearing a labcoat with a suit underneath. Meg guessed it was the man who she had briefly conversed on the phone with: Dr. McDaniels. 

They sat down, and the guards left the room, posting themselves outside the door. 

“Ah, Meg, it’s good to see you. I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but alas some things just don’t go your way sometimes. And Mr. Macmillan, how... thoughtful of you to join us.”

Evan towered over the frail man behind the desk, even in his seat. The doctor didn’t look too intimidated though.

“Why are we here.” Meg seethed. 

“I just wanted to discuss a few things about your time in our Lord’s, the Entity’s, realms.”

_ Our Lord?  _ Meg thought.  _ What the fuck? _

“Since this is your first appointment, I thought we could just go over some preliminary questions and then you two can get back to whatever it is you were doing. Basically, I want to know more about the trials. You see, your other friends aren’t being very… cooperative. I don’t want to have to result in using a heavier hand with you, Meg. It would be good if you listened carefully, and answered whatever I asked.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well, I’m sure your new friend Evan can tell you all about what happens, right?”

Evan, who hadn’t moved an inch, finally looked at her. Or had he been looking at her this whole time? She couldn’t tell, but she could see the tired look in his eyes once again.  _ They… beat me _ , his voice rang in her head. She didn’t want to be at the receiving end of such a treatment.

“Okay. Fine.” she said. 

“Good!” Dr. McDaniels clasped his hands together in excitement. “First, I want you to tell me about what you remember when the Entity let you go. What was it like?”

Meg tried to remember, as hard as she could, but nothing really spoke out to her. In fact, it was more like there was a black hole where the memory used to be. All she could remember was the feeling.

“I remember… feeling hopeless. Lost. Like there was no use in fighting the killers anymore.”

The doctor made a note on a notepad, elegant fingers scrawling something Meg couldn’t see. 

“It was like, this big empty feeling inside my chest, and I know the other survivors could feel it too. Dwight spoke to me about feeling the same thing a few times.”

“Ah yes, your friend Mr. Fairfield. We’ve had this come up before too… in other survivors, this feeling of hopelessness. But they were before your time.” McDaniels said.

“There were others?”

“Well, that’s not important right now. Keep talking about your experiences, Meg. Do you remember how you got out?”

“No. I just remember…” she thought hard, and something came to her mind, “being put on a hook, and then I woke up in the forest by my house. But I felt… tossed away. Like trash.”

The doctor made another note before asking another question. “Did you have any interactions with killers, as you call them? You and Mr. Macmillian seem to know each other quite well. Well enough that you somehow convinced him to grace my presence for the first time without having to be forced.”

Evan looked at her. Memories of her spying on Evan while he worked on his traps, memories of the medkit he left for her being gratefully accepted. 

“No… I don’t think so. We just met, like yesterday.”

McDaniels hummed. “You must have known each other before. Mr. Macmillan seems to be quite taken to you. It seems as though he looks to you for guidance.”

Evan spoke, forcefully. “That’s none of your business,” he growled.

“Ah, so you two did interact?” McDaniels pushed.

“Enough!” Evan yelled.

“Fine, fine. I think that’s enough talking for today anyways. We’ll talk tomorrow, Meg. Guards!”

The guards opened the door, escorting Evan out first, then Meg.

As the door was shutting, McDaniels addressed her. “Do me a favour. Next time and don’t bring that brute along with you.” Then the door shut with a bang. 

***

Down the elevator they went, back underground. The cell opened with a familiar clank and Evan was pushed into his seat to have his handcuffs taken off. The lead guard, the one who had called Meg a whore, kept her near the door, fishing the key to her handcuffs off her belt. 

The handcuffs were off Evan’s feet when the lead guard started talking. “Your hair looks good like this, Meg. That’s your name right?” He whispered, that sneer back on his face. He grabbed a curly lock, rubbing it between her fingers. Meg tried to put her handcuffed hands up in defense, but the guard only grabbed her wrist in a fierce grip and tugged her hands back down towards her waist.

Her struggle didn’t go unnoticed by Evan, whose hands tightened into rigid balls. “Don’t touch her,” he warned the guard.

“So what if I do? What are you going to do about it?” The guard hand went to the back of her head, pulling her hair back so her head went with it. The guard’s face went to Meg’s neck and he took a good long whiff of her. “Hm. You smell so fresh, huh Meg.”

That was enough to cause Evan to let out an enraged snarl. With his feet free, Evan kicked the guard at his feet in the face, sending the man to the ground unconscious.

Then, out of sheer strength Evan tore the chain holding his handcuffs together in two, freeing his hands. The guard holding Meg’s hair let go of her in surprise, yelping back toward the door.

Meg’s instincts kicked in. She kneed him right in the crotch, and the guard wailed in pain. He dropped to his knees, tears springing to his eyes. The man didn’t even have a chance to get his gun out, the careless fool. Evan bounded over in massive strides, grabbing the man by his throat and throwing him against the wall. Evan held him there, fist closed around his throat, choking him till he went red in the face and his hands scratched at Evan’s.

“Please…” the guard panted.

“I’ll kill you,” Evan replied, slamming the man against the wall again in a show of raw strength.

“Evan!” Meg cried. “Don’t do it.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“He’s not worth it,” Meg pleaded. “Don’t waste your time.”

Evan huffed, and threw the guard against the ground. Then with one swift kick to the stomach and a hard punch to the face, the guard was out cold. 

Meg regarded the open cell door. “Come on, Evan!” she said. “Let’s go!”

“Wait,” he said. He came over to Meg, looking at her softly. His hand reached out to her face and tucked a lock of unruly hair behind her ear. His hand lingered by her ear, barely touching. She looked up at him with wide eyes and he looked back at her with parted lips.

“Angelic,” he murmured, and that single, simple word made her cheeks flush all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Come on,” she decided to say, instead of addressing what had just happened. “We’re wasting time. We need to leave.” They rushed out of the room.

But, it was already too late. Four guards, who must have heard the commotion from down the hall, had their guns trained on them.

“Surrender yourselves,” one ordered.

Meg and Evan put their hands up slowly. Two of the guards came over and handcuffed them, and escorted them back to their prison. The unconscious guards were taken away, and the door shut behind them with a clank. 

Once Evan had settled down, the rage slowly puffing out of his chest in laboured breaths, Meg spoke. “I guess we’re back to square one then.”

And Evan? He smiled at her, and for the first time in a while, Meg felt a little flicker of hope rise in her chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Hope you enjoy my work :) Feel free to leave me a comment, they make my day!  
> Also feel free to follow me on Tumblr, @zoomsfics
> 
> Have a great day :D<3


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